


world walker

by iidiiot



Series: world jump au (discontinued) [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, all characters after 'minor characters' are mentioned or only minor, part of the world jump au, rated teen for language and other minor potential triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iidiiot/pseuds/iidiiot
Summary: wilbur doesn't quite remember. no, he doesn't remember.not until he does.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, Eret & Wilbur Soot, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: world jump au (discontinued) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962631
Comments: 22
Kudos: 337





	world walker

**Author's Note:**

> first off, this is part of the world jump au-- an au i created (i hope. if anyone else has something similar, it's coincidental). it is set in a semi-minecraft universe, where most of the mechanics are the same but things are overall less blocky and more realistic. i've also decided to slow down progression and make that more realistic as well.
> 
> secondly, all of the relationships in this were written as purely platonic. however: in the end, it is up to you, the reader, as to how you interpret these relationships.
> 
> this is my first time really writing most of these characters, so feedback is also very appreciated! if at any point you want to talk about this au, i'm always very happy to talk about it!! my tumblr is @ii-iidiiot.

the world blurs into view for wilbur. he shuts his eyes again. it's a strange, disorienting feeling. his stomach rolls and he grasps at the soft fabric of his sweater, fingers pulling it taut. the world twists and tilts, tips and turns, for a few long moments. it's nauseating and sickening and everything in between.

eventually those feelings quell and he's able to draw his focus to the world around him. he shields his eyes from the sun with a hand and sinks back into the ground with a low exhale. he's laying down, that much is obvious. the ground isn't particularly soft, but it isn't particularly hard either. a breeze blows past and grass tickles at his neck and cheeks. he unballs his fists and rests them, palms down, across his stomach. his ankles cross almost instinctively. looking up at the sky, he decides this world isn't so bad.

he doesn't remember much from before waking up-- if that's what this sensation can even be called. phantom sensations, voices he can't make out, jumbled thoughts that leave him more and more confused the longer he dwells on them. he figures it's best he doesn't think about any of it too hard. instinct swells in both his mind and chest and he pushes himself up slowly. the world decides to spin one last time as he rises carefully to his feet. he approaches a nearby tree with hardly a thought.

he's holding the logs before he even realizes it properly. it brings on an impromptu inspection of his hands, as he spots scars littering his knuckles and fingers. opening his hands reveals more faded scars along his palms. interesting. he must have led an interesting life before.

even if he knows little of what he was before, of who he was, he knows what happened. the basics of it, anyways. a world jump. they happened often enough, when whatever higher deity there was decided you'd outlived your purpose in that world. shaking his head, wilbur shoves all of that to the back of his mind and gets to work.

it's a fairly simple thing-- a methodical process-- to get basic tools. craft a crafting table, craft a pickaxe, mine stone, craft a furnace, craft another pickaxe out of stone, this time.. it's instinct that he knows by heart, instinct that he thinks carries over from his previous lives, even if he doesn't remember them. he's grateful that the higher being has some sort of pity, leaving him with knowledge of who he is, what he is supposed to do. just nothing about what he was, or what he was supposed to do. it's complicated and confusing and thinking about it for too long leaves his head hung and his heart heavy.

so he moves on.

he's glad when he finds his way out of the caves, donning a new iron pickaxe and a few mismatched pieces of iron armor. an iron sword is made quickly as he sets his stuff down on the surface to finish smelting the iron. for now, he needs food. food and a bed, and more wood for making a house.

it's easy to craft an iron axe to chop trees with, just as easy to cut them down bit by bit and craft them into planks. it rewards him with a few apples too, so he certainly won't complain about it. he finds pigs, part of the way through the forest. maybe it would be smarter to try and bring them back to his base location, to breed them and have a steady food supply. he's hungry now, however, and he has no carrots or potatoes. it wouldn't do him much good anyway. he kills them swiftly and buries the pork chops in his inventory to cook and eat later.

he manages to find a herd of sheep too. he's glad he decided to make shears before he left. he gathers enough wool for two beds and then some, so he promptly stores that away and decides to return to where he'd set up camp. he has enough wood now to set up a house, which he can expand on later if he needs to. for now, he just needs something safe, something to keep the monsters out while he sleeps.

his house is, expectedly, crude as he races to finish and beat the setting sun. moving his stuff inside is tedious and time consuming and the sun lowers beneath the horizon as he steps inside and shuts his door behind him. he can hear the soft crackle and pop of monsters spawning in outside. he should have lit up around his house too, he thinks, and spares a soft curse. too late now, though, as he finally crafts his bed and sets his pork chops into his smoker to cook. it warms his house pleasantly, even if it makes the air smell a little smoky as the coal burns. the smell of the pork chops cooking quickly snuffs that out.

he should set up a farm tomorrow, wilbur thinks to himself as he paces his floor, waiting for the meat to finish cooking. looking around at his near empty house has his gut clenching. it feels too empty, too open. too quiet too. looking over at his lone bed, pressed into the corner, has him feeling unbelievably sad. lonely. it feels like there should be others too. thinking about it gives him a headache.

he's quick to collect his pork chops once they're finished and settle on the edge of his bed. the mattress shifts under his weight and he sighs, swallowing down bite after bite of pork chop. he tucks the rest of them away and shifts his feet up to slide off his shoes so that he can lay down comfortably. his hands find the divet of his stomach once again, and his ankles cross. he's staring up at his ceiling in the dim light of the torches he'd placed.

he gives a low hum to fill the silence and finds that he likes it. keeping his voice low, he tips his head back into his pillow and hums again. a meaningless tune comes naturally, brain supplying melody after melody as he occupies the silence of his house with his messy song. he wonders if the tune that he hums was something from one of his old lives. he isn't sure. and honestly? he isn't so sure if he wants to, if the worsening of his headache is anything to go off of. he practically hums himself to sleep, the low tune fading in and out as his eyes shut and he exhales softly. sleep is easy, dreamless. it always is.

he wakes up one morning-- hours, days, weeks later-- without issue, peering up at his sun-lit ceiling. it's with ease and practice that he swings his legs over to side of the bed and rises. his house is far more cluttered than that first night. chests are stacked against one wall, furnaces and smokers and blast furnaces against another. he's gotten full armor by this point, secured tightly in iron from the ankle up and diamond from the ankle down. a mix of iron tools occupy his belt, a sturdy shield hooked around his left arm.

everything still feels too vacant and empty-- though that feeling wanes just slightly with the presence of his fish. he'd scooped it out of the water on accident one day while building his farm and decided to keep it. it made him feel slightly less insane to have something living to talk to, even if it didn't respond. so he'd built it a quaint little spot that he expanded upon all the time and dubbed it 'milo'. it just felt right, even if the name brought on instant heartache.

today felt like a good day to explore. the sun was still rising as he stepped outside, pulling his armor on. he hadn't done much of that recently, tending to stick closer to home as he slowly built it up from a small shack to a nice house and farm, and milo's ever-growing pool. he trod over and crouched, fingers dipping into the pool. milo swam past, brushing against his hand, and wilbur grinned.

"that's got to be a sign of good luck. much appreciated, milo," he says, rising back to his feet. with that, he starts off. he feels good about today.

he makes surprisingly good time despite the weight of his armor and the number of damn mountains there are in the direction he'd chosen. climbing up another block, he stands. a cliff face extends below him, a sheer drop that could easily kill him if he fell. the wind rushes past him this high up and wilbur pauses. tipping his head back, he extends his arms and exhales slowly. being this high up felt right. eventually, he picks his way down. he ends up wading through a lake once he reaches the bottom and he's drenched, but happy. this day really was a good one. nothing could make it much better.

he's trying to hastily dry off his armor with a handful of wool when there's a loud, sizzling pop in the air. it sounds like the sound of something spawning but amplified to 100 and it causes him to pause. he draws his sword and throws the wool to the ground. he never claimed to be the most intelligent, he thinks, as he heads in the direction the noise came from.

it doesn't take him long to reach a clearing in the trees and he takes shelter behind a tree, trying to minimize the clang of his armor. there's a body lying prone on the ground, groaning. he almost brushes it off as a zombie, if it weren't for the way his world spun when he looked at the figure. and it wasn't burning in the sun either. hesitantly, he steps closer. catching sight of their face, he drops his sword and clutches at his head, throwing his helmet off. his head bursts with pain and he falls to his knees.

he hears a muffled, "what the hell.." as the pain starts to fade to nothing. he looks up and meets the figure's eyes. his mind whirls again but without pain, and the figure's mouth drops open. something about this person is so, so familiar. achingly so. he fumbles to pick up his sword and helmet, plonking the helmet back on his head and slotting his sword back onto his belt as he stands. he offers them a hand, and they take it, lifting themselves to their feet.

"i'm wilbur. wilbur soot," he greets, "welcome to hell." the person starts to laugh and wilbur himself can't hide a grin.

"i'm schlatt. jschlatt. jebediah schlatt, if you will." the person, schlatt, informs.

"well, mister jebediah schlatt, could i interest you in heading back to my place? you're the first person i've seen around here since i got here and--"

"at least take me to dinner first, wilbur." the statement has wilbur fumbling, wide eyed. schlatt starts laughing, leaning against his shoulder. it feels all too natural as schlatt says, "kidding, kidding. i'd be honored, mister wilbur soot."

the trip back is much less lonely and, despite his confusion and the deep sense of familiarity twisting in his gut, he feels much happier with schlatt as company. they fall into some sort of routine, even though he isn't sure if they've met before. he feels like they have, but he can't tell. it's nice to speak and be responded to, to be able to respond to what someone else says regardless. they're wading through the lake, schlatt mid-sentence, when wilbur freezes. he and schlatt share a look, the other man looking visibly confused by his sudden stop, and then they're both laughing. it's strange, walking through the water with schlatt had brought something to the surface in him apparently, but wilbur has learned not to question the oddities of the world. it brings too many headaches. so he shakes it off and they both continue on their way.

schlatt fits right into his routine, startlingly easily. they make him a bed and it feels right to have someone else around. they mine together, explore together, lounge around together. wilbur is too glad to have genuinely sentient company and schlatt seems to have no issues keeping him company either. they banter back and forth, even that first day that he finds schlatt. it's natural.

schlatt offers him deals. give him some wood, and schlatt will give him some food. spare some torches and wilbur gets a piece of gold they find. it's funny, he thinks. he could say no-- they pool their resources at the end of the day anyway, sharing constantly throughout it. but every time schlatt offers him a deal, he finds himself laughing and accepting without a second thought. it's just.. natural.

schlatt finds a dog while they're exploring one time, and tames it with a couple bones from some skeletons they'd killed. "you should name him pee dog," wilbur tells him without a second thought.

"pee dog?" schlatt repeats slowly.

"pee dog," wilbur confirms.

"deal. but only if you find the dye to color his collar yellow."

he winces at the thought of staining his hands yellow with the dye but laughs regardless, hand extended. his friend shakes it firmly. "deal," wilbur agrees.

eventually, they decide to build schlatt a house too. wilbur's is getting crowded with chests upon chests of stuff. they work together to gather materials and, though wilbur does most of the actual building, schlatt doesn't genuinely complain about how he builds it. teasing comments that might seem sharp to onlookers are shared but they both know better.

it's when wilbur and schlatt are perched on the roof, working on securing the wood together to make a sturdy structure, do they hear a loud pop. wilbur gasps dramatically and schlatt shouts, "what the hell was that?"

"someone new jumped worlds!" wilbur explains hurriedly, "we need to go find them--" they're interrupted by a body popping into the world, right in front of their eyes. wilbur freezes. schlatt freezes. the figure is.. likely unconscious. the roof, unsteady and barely standing, creaks ominously and then splits. right under the person. it cracks and they fall right through the roof, hitting the ground with a thump. schlatt and wilbur share a look as the figure starts to groan, lifting a hand to their head. then--

"okay, what the fuck..?" the two of them start laughing, nearly falling through the roof themselves. the stranger only groans pathetically again. wilbur struggles to get down off the roof without breaking an ankle and schlatt just jumps, hitting the dirt and stumbling to his knees as he breaks down into hysterics again. stepping through the half-constructed doorway, wilbur stops laughing. the world wavers and he hears the sound of shouting. he can't tell exactly what's being said, but he feels like it's a multitude of expletives. the sensation and voice are gone as soon as they came and wilbur is left to stumble against the doorframe.

schlatt frowns at him and it's then that wilbur notices that the other man has stopped laughing too. "wilbur?" he asks.

the tall brunet shakes his head and turns his eyes back to the blond on the ground. he's starting to sit up now, looking around in visible confusion. "who the hell are you? and who the hell is the goat man?" the younger boy accuses, voice loud. wilbur's heart twists at the sound without him really knowing why.

"i'm wilbur soot and this is--"

"i'm schlatt. jschlatt."

the boy squints at them. "the name's tommyinnit. but you can just call me tommy." he takes the hand wilbur offers him and the taller man pulls him up.

"welcome to hell, little man," schlatt says then, and tommy laughs blatantly,

"you're pretty funny, jschlatt," the boy admits.

the dynamic shifts from then on, but not in a bad way. schlatt and tommy are both different forms of chaos walking. he helps them finish schlatt's house once they get him properly suited up and takes up the empty spot left in wilbur's house. he's a little loud, a little hard to handle, a little stubborn, but wilbur doesn't mind. it's almost like having a little brother, with tommy around. any time the thought crosses his mind, he gets blurred images of faceless figures, of laughter, of warm hugs and teasing remarks. he's sure he knew tommy in a previous life, just as he's sure now that he knew schlatt.

they offer to help build tommy a house, but he says he's fine with sharing. wilbur doesn't mind sharing either. it's nice having someone new around. schlatt was still his best friend, his first real friend in this life, but tommy added something new to their little family unit. his energy is welcome and wilbur gets many a laugh out of watching whatever shenanigans schlatt and tommy get up to. sometimes he joins in, sometimes he sits on the sidelines to watch. it's nice, he thinks, as he watches schlatt chase tommy around with a stick. the younger is screaming but it's all in good fun-- his giggles between screams give him away. schlatt is laughing maniacally.

this is nice. he could get used to this.

he's working away at his makeshift desk one time, when tommy approaches. "you sing, wilbur?" the young blond asks, peering over his shoulder at the mess of words scribbled across the book's pages. some words are crossed out, others underlined. he's got staffs scattered across the page, outlining music notes and chords, things he didn't know he knew but felt natural when he wrote them. it's chaotic and illegible to most, but wilbur understands it.

"sometimes. i've done it less since you and schlatt have shown up," wilbur explained, deciding to be completely honest. tommy leans on his shoulder from behind, armor shed as they work around the house. schlatt lifts his head from the sword he's inspecting across the room. "i did it before, mostly so i didn't go crazy. it was pretty lonely with just me and milo."

tommy doesn't respond, merely points at a word-- a lyric-- wilbur had been struggling with and makes a suggestion for what to change it to. the brunet thanks him and continues working. schlatt looks back to the sword. wilbur thinks that's the last of the conversation. apparently not.

tommy corners him in his house shortly after, a week at most, and refuses to answer his questions. schlatt lugs something in through the door and kicks it shut behind him.

"what is that--" he doesn't get the opportunity to finish, for schlatt shoves it into his arms. he adjusts it almost instinctively, eyes widening. "how the hell did you guys manage this?"

schlatt shrugs, "go on, wilbur. play us a song." he steps back, leaning against the wall. tommy smirks, settling on the edge of his bed.

when wilbur doesn't respond, the blond prods, "go on, big man. show us what you've got!"

the tall brunet exhales shakily and settles on the edge of his own bed, fingers brushing across the strings. he inhales and strums once, twice-- then it's all coming back to him. it comes back to him like a loyal dog, like schlatt after a day of exploring, like tommy after a night of fighting mobs, like t--.. his mind stutters almost painfully. holding the guitar, suddenly wilbur remembers everything about how to play. the pace picks up as he grows more confident and then he's singing too. tommy joins in on the parts he remembers from watching over his shoulder while he wrote. schlatt is hardly trying to hide his smile.

it all feels natural. it brings images of a faceless crowd, of cheering, of laughter, of being up on stage. it brings images of a messily put together platform, of military uniforms, of unity, as he sings. they make it a habit of sitting around a carefully crafted fire, playing the guitar and singing together after that.

it's actually schlatt alone who finds the fourth person to join their world. he was out and about for no particular reason other than to wander when the familiar loud pop sounded. he begins to search, but it doesn't take long. the man was propped against a tree, looking around thoughtlessly. schlatt had offered him a place amongst their group. wilbur always was a fan of 'strength in numbers'.

schlatt tells them this as they gather around the fire that night, the new guy-- phil-- settled among them. wilbur remembers when schlatt had come back earlier than usual, remembers the world twist when he caught sight of the person following him. he'd nearly fallen into tommy in his stumble, who was helping him with the farm. the young blond had merely nudged at his shoulder and shot him a weird look as he rushed over to greet them.

just as schlatt and tommy had, phil meshes into their group without issue. he's a survivalist, an impressive one. wilbur swears he could go through anything and come out the other side alive. still, he isn't stoic or serious like one would expect him to be. he's got a wicked sense of humor, laughing along with jokes schlatt cracks and joking alongside tommy, and he's kinder than almost anyone wilbur's ever met (not that the number is too high at the moment, but he feels like phil is still kinder than most).

phil spends a few weeks in schlatt's house while they build him his own. they all work in tandem, even as they laugh and mess around near constantly. perhaps it inhibits progress a little bit, but there never was fun in taking everything so seriously.

with the older blond's help, the four of them start to think about walling off their area. they even start to lay out a foundation, though the walls end up being a much longer term project.

near the end of phil's first month with them, wilbur finds himself unable to sleep. he has images running through his head, passing across his vision. there are sounds too, unfamiliar and unintelligible voices and explosions and music. one day, while he and phil are working on the wall together, he swears he feels someone grab his arm. he jerks so hard that he nearly falls off the wall, goes to berate tommy for scaring him, but phil is down the wall a ways and schlatt and tommy are nowhere to be found. phil looks at him, concerned, but wilbur brushes it off.

that's how phil finds him outside one night, sat on the edge of milo's pool with his toes dipping into the water. milo swims around his feet mindlessly and normally wilbur would smile, but his thoughts are overrun with thoughts and images and sounds and feelings of things he's never experienced. his head aches something fierce, but he's almost grown accustomed to it in the last few days.

"you okay out here, wil?" the older blond asks, sitting beside him on the edge of the pool.

he debates telling him that he's fine, to go back to bed. but he thinks if any of the others will understand, it's phil. so he shakes his head slightly and sits up a little more, "do you ever think about your past lives, phil?"

phil cocks his head to one side and shrugs. "not really. i figure, i don't remember any of it and i doubt i ever will."

"i do," wilbur tells him, "and it's been bothering me a lot recently. i get these images of people and things but i don't recognize any of it. i hear things that haven't happened, hear people i've never met." the other man looks vaguely surprised,

"really? that's pretty strange. i've never gotten any of that. i don't remember a thing."

that has the brunet pausing, "you haven't? nothing at all, about your past lives?" phil shakes his head.

"i don't. but do you want to tell me about it? it can't hurt to get it off your chest." phil looks patient, kind, even shadowed by the night's sky like this.

"i think.. i think i knew you in a past life. tommy, and schlatt too. i just.. i knew you. and it's all right here but it isn't at the same time. and thinking about any of it just gives me a damn headache." wilbur rubs at his head, drawing his knees toward his chest.

phil's hand comes over to rest on his shoulder and it feels so familiar that it makes him flinch with the images and sounds and sensations and feelings it brings on. "i don't know anything about how you're feeling, wil, but i'm here for you if you need it, man. tommy and schlatt are too. if it gets any worse, maybe we can all band together to try and find a solution. there's gotta be something."

wilbur nods absently, focused on the reflection he and phil leave in the water of milo's pool. "thanks phil," he says after a moment, "you're the best."

this gives the blond man pause for a moment, but then he's grinning, "no problem." 

wilbur wonders if this is what having a father figure feels like. his heart twists at the thought.

a fifth and a sixth member show up at some point. they always end up spawning in near one of the existing members, which is convenient. the fifth-- a chaotic man named skeppy-- only stays for a few days before deciding to strike out on his own. he says he plans to stay close and tommy reports that he decides to build his house into the side of one of the nearby mountains. they see him often enough and he's good company. the sixth is a sweet boy named antfrost, or ant, who also takes off on his own after a short stay. he doesn't seem to really have much of a base and does more travelling than anything, but he pops in often enough for them to know not to worry for him.

wilbur thinks he recognizes them-- or skeppy, at least. but he swears ant seems a little familiar too.

the seventh is much more striking. it had been a while since someone had spawned in on him; skeppy had spawned in on phil and ant had spawned in on tommy. it's startling when he hears the bang, for it always is. it's loud enough that everyone hears it, no matter where they are, but it's always bordering on just too loud to those closest to where the newcomer spawns.

he and tommy are loitering around inside their half-constructed walls (schlatt and phil took a trip down into the caves) when it happens. they look up instinctively, then the figure pops into existence. they lay completely still and wilbur almost worries something is wrong. normally they've responded, done something by now. but the figure continues laying there. so he approaches and crouches down, shaking their arm. eyes open.

"i'm wilbur," he greets softly, taking in their startled expression (is he imagining it, or do they look strangely sick too?). carefully, he helps them sit up.

"i'm tubbo." he says.

wilbur smiles and nods, "nice to meet you, tubbo." then he waves tommy over. the blond had hung back, continuing with what they'd been working on.

the moment tommy steps into view of tubbo, however, he seems to freeze. he goes tense under wilbur's hands and his eyes are huge. "i'm--" tommy starts, only to be interrupted by the newcomer,

"tommy?" then tubbo droops and slides, limp, to the ground-- unconscious again. wilbur and tommy are left gaping.

despite his strange arrival, tubbo fits in well. he's certainly a little odd, but wilbur is too. when he wakes again, he has no recollection of who tommy is, even though he seemed to recognize him before. sometimes it feels like he's dealing with a completely different person when tubbo speaks. sometimes he mentions things that never happened, things that none of them know about. though wilbur and tommy appear in these stories most often, other than tubbo himself, occasionally he starts to bring someone else up but stops. tommy asks him about it once and tubbo swears he has no idea what they're talking about-- he gets quiet afterward regardless.

phil gives wilbur a knowing look. they all learn not to bring it up after that.

their newest arrival attaches himself to tommy, not that the blond minds. they spend most of their time together and they're the only two who still stay in wilbur's house. they're a force to be reckoned with, really, and wilbur wouldn't have it any other way. if tommy was like a little brother to him, so was tubbo. he fits into their dynamic too well that it feels almost supernatural. wilbur knows better than to question things like this, especially when he feels like he remembers tubbo.

tubbo likes to be productive though, and their resource gathering increases a good amount when he helps. it's extremely helpful, but wilbur worries that he overworks himself sometimes. it feels oddly familiar when he finds tubbo outside one night, working away tirelessly at a crafting table. he looks exhausted and wilbur approaches, leaning against the side of the crafting table.

"tubbo? you alright, dude?" he asks. tubbo doesn't respond, so he prompts him again, "hey, tubbo."

tubbo startles him when he speaks, "do you get thoughts that aren't yours sometimes, wilbur?"

"what?" he blinks, baffled.

"thoughts that.. aren't yours. well, they are yours, but they aren't at the same time." he stops crafting to meet wilbur's eyes and the taller brunet wonders if this is what phil felt when he found him outside that night forever ago, spouting some of the same shit. "like.. i know i talk about things that never happened sometimes. i'll remember things when we're talking about something and i'll talk about it, but i can tell none of you know what i'm on about. i don't remember anything about what i was saying after that, but i know they happened and.. it's weird."

wilbur hums softly, contemplative. "i think i know what you mean, tubbo. not exactly, but something similar happens to me." when tubbo only stares at him, mouth parted, he decides to continue. "i remember things, sometimes. it's not very clear. voices of people i've never met, faceless figures, sensations that aren't real.. so yeah, i know what you mean. better than any of the others, anyways."

"what is it? why does it happen to us?" tubbo asks and wilbur suddenly remembers just how young he is, in the fear in his eyes and the tremble in his voice.

"i think it's got something to do with our past lives. that's the best explanation i've got, unless i've been living a second, secret life behind my own back." that gets the younger to crack a small smile. "i don't know why it's just us. none of the others remember anything. i guess that makes us special."

"special," tubbo echoes.

"special," wilbur repeats, flashing a warm grin. rising, he ruffles tubbo's hair. "you should get to bed. it's late and you're exhausted." he starts back toward the house, pausing a few blocks away and peering over his shoulder-- "hey, and.. tubbo?"

"yeah, wilbur?"

"if you need someone to talk to about this weird shit, i'm here to listen. now seriously. get to bed. i'm pretty sure it's past your bedtime, or something." wilbur ducks inside and climbs into bed. tommy is snoring away in bed a couple blocks away and he himself is exhausted, but he can't find it in himself to fall asleep until tubbo comes in. a short while later, when he hears the door creak open and shut again and the springs on tubbo's bed shift, wilbur finally lets himself sleep.

wilbur hates the eighth. it's more accurate to say that he hates the feelings the eighth brings, not the eighth himself. he spawns in on one of their off days, when all of them are lounging around doing nothing in particular. with everyone in such close proximity, gathered around the fire that night while wilbur plays them a song, it's just a matter of waiting for them to pop into the world.

schlatt, ever the vigilant, spots them first. they're laid out just within the patch of trees growing inside the walls. so they all gather around and just as the figure sits up, just as wilbur catches sight of their face, he feels like something slides cleanly through his gut. a sharp blade, or something just as sharp. his breath leaves him in a gasp and he clutches at the invisible wound, knees buckling.

it draws attention, of course. the attention is pulled from the newcomer to him and he can't find the energy to even look up, too consumed in the false agony he was thrust into. hands grasp at his arms and pull him to his feet, leading him away. when the feelings start to wane, he lets himself slide from their grip and to the ground, sprawled out. he meets the eyes of the two that tugged him away: tubbo and--

he once again stares into the dark sunglasses of the newcomer and something in his chest twists, a far worse form of heartache than he was used to getting around the others. "you okay, dude? tubbo here said this happens sometimes, but i'm still a little concerned." they ask and tubbo is standing off to one side, looking far too knowing.

"yeah. yeah, i'm.. i'm alright. thanks." wilbur responds instinctively. "i'm wilbur, by the way. sorry about that, normally my introduction is a lot cooler."

he laughs. "i'm eret. pleasure to meet you, wilbur." wilbur props himself up enough the shake eret's hand, flashing a smile. he isn't sure if it's genuine or not. schlatt comes over to check on him and steal eret away for more introductions. tubbo settles beside him.

"what was that about, wil? it's normally not that bad, is it?" so tubbo lied intentionally then. wilbur lets himself slide to his back on the grass, hands folded across his stomach.

"no. reminders have never been that bad before. not that vivid or that staggering, anyway." he tips his head to one side as he answers, watching the younger brunet fiddle with his fingers.

"do you.." tubbo hesitates and wilbur frowns. "do you think that, maybe eret was really important in a past life? or.. or maybe you're getting closer to remembering everything," he continues. the thought is enough to cause the older brunet to falter.

"i can't be absolutely sure, but i.. i doubt he's any more important to me than any of you all are. was. were." he shuts his eyes. "and that's a hell of a lot, by the way. i'm glad i'm getting to meet all of you again, even if it means we had to lose our former selves to do it. maybe i'll end up remembering everything. i dunno, tubbo."

the boy nudges at his side with a foot, causing him to open his eyes, "i'm glad i met you again, too. i know you told me the same thing, but.. you know you can come to me about this sort of stuff, right? we're the only ones who get reminders. we've got to stick together."

wilbur cracks a smile. "i'll keep that in mind. you go join the others by the fire, i'll be there in a little while. i just need a couple more minutes."

"alright. just make sure to join us soon, okay?" tubbo pushes himself to his feet, peering down at him.

"sure thing. tell the others 'sorry' for me, would you? that was pretty embarrassing. and uh.. tell phil that it was just 'the thing'. he'll know what you mean." when tubbo nodded, wilbur waved as he walked off.

he watches tubbo arrive at the fire, watches him speak to phil. the older blond waves when he catches his eye, shooting him a thumbs up. he looks around the fire at all of the others and when his eyes finally come to rest on eret, the other is looking right back at him.

it's hard to ignore the feelings that overcome him when eret speaks to him, when he looks eret in the eye, but he manages. eret doesn't deserve to be ignored simply because he can't get a grip on the reminders that he gets in his presence. so he shoves them aside and laughs along with him, talks to him, explores with him, hangs out with him. eret makes it easy to, aside from the reminders-- he's rather easygoing and chill.

he gets along with the others too. tommy and he banter back and forth easily. he and schlatt are both business men and smooth-tongued, leading to some incredibly interesting and hilarious debates. tubbo enjoys resource gathering with him, for he's just as productive as the younger brunet is. with his help, their walls are finished and strengthened in record time. he's kind, just like phil is, even if he likes to pretend he isn't.

that's why wilbur is startled when eret enters his house one day. he goes to greet him, turning away from the chest he's organizing, and hears the click of the door locking. he pauses, fingers twitching, itching to grab his sword. to don his armor. he isn't sure if that's another effect of the reminders or not.

"can i talk to you?" eret asks. wilbur feels antsy, almost nervous, but he agrees regardless. he offers eret a chair and sits in his own.

"are you okay?" that wasn't what wilbur was expecting-- "you always get so tense around me. i can tell you aren't trying to, that you're trying to hide whatever it is that's going on up in your head. did something happen? did i do something? even that first day, when i first arrived. when you nearly passed out the minute you looked at me."

wilbur doesn't even realize he's trembling until eret leans forward to rest his hand over his. the other is so patient, kind.. he doesn't deserve any of the hatred, or whatever this is that's bleeding through from one of wilbur's old lives. so he tells eret everything-- about the reminders, about the reminders regarding him in particular. and eret sits and listens, only speaking to ask for clarification occasionally.

when he's finished, eret gives a smile. "i understand. well.. i don't. but i get it. and i don't remember anything from my previous lives, but i'm sure past me didn't like hurting you, whatever happened." he lets his hand linger over wilbur's for a moment longer before he rises, "i'll get out of your hair now. thanks for telling me about all this. i assume tubbo knows?"

he nods, "tubbo and phil know. tubbo.. gets something similar."

"i'd noticed. that's another reason why i was coming to talk to you, but it makes sense now." eret unlocks the door and swings it open. "see you later, wilbur."

"bye, eret." wilbur responds, even after he had already left, shutting the door behind him. that had gone.. way better than he'd expected. he was sure anyone other than tubbo or phil would've called him crazy.

regardless, he's glad that the thought of eret doesn't twist his heart like it used to. he feels a little lighter than before, as he goes back to sorting the chests. maybe he could tell the others-- tell tommy, and schlatt. and ant and skeppy, next time they came around. maybe he should. they all deserved to know. but for now? for now, wilbur wasn't quite ready to tell everyone yet.

a long time passes after eret. new people spawn, occasionally, but all choose to leave. punz, for example, spawns and chooses to leave rather quickly. he, like skeppy, stays nearby and visits when he's free. they hear someone spawn but never find them-- it's during one of ant's visits is it revealed that they spawned on him. sapnap, his name is. he and ant spend a few days lingering around camp then head off again. purpled spawns in on tubbo. he doesn't seem keen on traveling like ant and sapnap, though he doesn't really create a set-in-stone base either. he's a little all over the place, wilbur finds.

skeppy has someone spawn in on him too, bringing them over immediately to meet everyone. badboyhalo. he's sweet and helps out, choosing to bounce between bases rather than properly settle down-- much like purpled, but much more easily found. he spends time with skeppy, then spends time within the walls, then he visits punz or travels with ant and sapnap. after bad spawns in, they all decide to meet up everytime someone new spawns in, regardless of where they are. everyone agrees easily, though ant and sapnap are given leeway in the case that they need time to get back.

the next spawn is niki, another permanent installment inside their walls. her arrival is staggering, though not quite like eret's was. when she spawns in on phil while he's caving and he brings her back to the surface, it's to tell them she'd wanted to help him finish his trip before they went up. he'd geared her up while she was down in the caves with him. wilbur's gut twists when he sees her. laughter and kind words follow her.

niki, he learns, is soft-spoken but infinitely patient. she yearns to help where she can, even with all the progress they've already made, and tubbo and eret are thrilled to take her on as an 'apprentice' of sorts. wilbur himself is just as thrilled to learn she is a musician just as he is and she's eager to join in as they sing and play songs around the campfire.

they make the construction of her house a community project. it's a unanimous decision. with as many people as they have, it takes almost no time at all. niki is overjoyed, despite the fact she hardly stays in it afterward. more often than not, she can be found sleeping soundly out in the grass or spending the night with someone else. it's hard not to see how fond she is of their group-- she wears her heart on her sleeve most of the time and she doesn't try to hide it.

wilbur is climbing up onto the roof of his house one night when he spots her, lounging about in the grass. thinking is easiest when everyone else is asleep, he finds. "niki," he calls softly. she looks in his direction and smiles, rolling to her stomach.

"wil!" her smile is contagious; wilbur feels himself smile back.

"you feel like joining me?" he offers, patting the roof beside him. he should be quiet, as tommy and tubbo were sleeping just inside, but they had come back from a taxing trip down into the mines-- they'd likely be dead to the world for awhile. niki is quick to join him, scrambling up carefully and settling down beside him.

"what are you doing out here this late?" niki questioned. he can feel the exit she gives him in her tone, the offer for an out, to not answer.

"it's the best time to think. tommy's asleep, after all." that earns him a giggle and his smile widens.

"you're right. what are you thinking about, then?" the question gives him pause. he isn't really sure. everything. nothing. so he shrugs helplessly,

"just thinking, i guess. tubbo's been struggling with this.. this thing, lately, is all and.. well, i'm trying to help him the best i can, but i don't really know how." wilbur is rambling before he realizes. when he pauses to look over at niki, she is only watching, listening patiently.

"it's his stories, right? when he.." she struggles for a moment, "when he talks about things. things that none of us know about." wilbur hadn't expected her to pick up on it, but she was observant. much more so than he gave her credit for, apparently. and she has been spending a lot of time with tubbo. it's different with eret-- he knows what's up with he and tubbo. but niki doesn't.

"yeah. this is gonna sound crazy, but he remembers things from his past lives, i think. we've been trying to keep a record of what he says, to see if he can remember any of it if we tell him what he told us. he always forgets afterward. so me and eret, we thought this might help. but it's been pretty useless so far.." he's rambling again, but niki doesn't stop him. he almost wishes she would.

"you're right, it does sound a little crazy. but i believe you. i'm sure you're doing your best, wil. he talks about you a lot, even in his stories," she points out, "he looks up to you so much. tommy does too, even if he tries to pretend he doesn't."

"i know, but what if my best isn't enough? i just can't imagine what he's going through, and he's so young.."

"but you can imagine what he's going through, can't you?" that makes him freeze. when he doesn't respond, she rolls to her stomach to look at him. "i noticed something was up with you. first i asked phil, but he wouldn't tell me anything. schlatt had no idea either. so i asked tubbo next and--"

"tubbo told you about my reminders?"

she shook her head. "eret did, actually. tubbo panicked when i asked him and ran off. i felt bad but eret overheard. i don't think he intended on telling me, but i knew something was wrong. you act strange sometimes and i was getting worried. it's been happening more and more lately and he said he'd noticed the same thing."

thinking about it, he had been getting more reminders lately. much more vivid ones too. he'd woken up to the smell of something burning and the crackle of a fire one morning and it had taken tommy, schlatt, and phil searching the whole area for fires to console him. the campfire had been out, even any embers left over. tommy and schlatt were starting to get suspicious, he knew. it felt wrong to leave just them out, when everyone else knew-- even niki knew, now. and they had been his first friends in this life..

wilbur exhaled heavily, "do you think i should tell them, niki?" she cocked her head to one side, propping her chin up on a hand. "tell schlatt and tommy, i mean. about the reminders."

"i think you should tell them. when you are ready, though. you don't have to make hasty decisions as long as you can manage your reminders," she tells him kindly, ever patient, but honest.

"you're.. you're right. thanks, niki." she smiles wide and shifts closer, wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

when she draws away, he releases a long breath. "wilbur?" she pipes up. he looks up to see her preparing to climb off the roof,

"yeah?"

"remember that they trust you. you're their friend. you're my friend. they'll believe you. and you have people on your side already. and.." she hesitates. "i think, when you do tell them, that you should tell everyone. punz, skeppy, bad, purpled, and sapnap and ant too. it might be easier, that way, to tell them all at the same time. you would only have to gather your nerves once."

wilbur stifles a laugh, a genuine one, and nods, letting his head thump back against the roof. "thanks, niki. i think you might be right." she waves as she lowers herself off the roof and wilbur waves back. what did he do in his past lives to deserve all these people? to deserve getting them back again, nonetheless?

another person spawns months later. they're armored almost head to toe in diamond at this point, assorted diamond tools tucked on their belts. enchantments are in progress too, though gathering enough energy to successfully do so has proven difficult without a spawner. the newcomer spawns in on him again-- the first in awhile. he introduces himself as george and wilbur thinks he plans to stay, for a little while anyway. but when ant and sapnap and bad arrive, he chooses to leave with them when they head off again.

wilbur can practically feel the pull between the four of them, the way they're drawn to one another. even still, however, he can feel something missing. maybe it's the twist in his gut when he thinks of something, of someone, missing, but it's a struggle to let them go. he ends up hiding out in his house rather than seeing them off. it makes him sick to his stomach thinking about it and he thinks.. well, wilbur doesn't think he would've been able to let them leave if he'd been out there. he pretends he doesn't feel the looks phil and niki send his way, tommy's curious stare, tubbo's reassuring mumbles and eret's hand, gentle on his shoulder.

he's on the move with schlatt through the snowy taiga when the boom sounds-- their fifteenth spawn, wilbur himself included. schlatt starts to look immediately while wilbur wavers in place for a moment. they've started to make him feel a little nauseous, the spawn pops. then he starts searching too. they meet back up minutes later and it's a little worrisome, to not have found the newcomer by now. he's about to speak when schlatt shushes him.

the other man gestures to a thick patch of berry bushes and wilbur pauses, only to hear them rustle. a pair of orange ears pop up and he's about to dismiss it, when a face follows it seconds later. it's too familiar. too painful. his gut wrenches as they hurriedly free themself from the patch of bushes. schlatt's hand on his arm stabilizes him and only then does he realize he'd stumbled.

"hey there!" the newcomer greets, lifting a hand. "the name's fundy."

"schlatt, nice to meet you. this here is wilbur. the pleasure is all his, i'm sure." schlatt picks up where wilbur won't-- can't. he isn't able to choke words out, no matter how hard he tries.

"so uh.. what's going on here?" fundy inquires, plucking thorns off of his jacket.

"if you're interested--" wilbur chokes out, drawing the attention to him. "if you're interested," he continues, "we can bring you back to our little.. little neighborhood. our encampment. you can stay, if you want. or you can go. we have people do both."

"there's more?" fundy gapes. "hell yeah, i want to go. let's get a move on!" his energy is contagious it seems, for it draws a chuckle from schlatt and wilbur is smiling despite himself.

when fundy announces, a few days after his arrival, that he plans to stay, something in wilbur's chest settles. the half-fox forces his way into their community, not that any of them mind. he meshes well with all of them, though he and tommy do butt heads occasionally. he takes to niki immediately and she is thrilled to learn the proper way to pick berries, while he is excited to learn to bake. they bond over shared pets and niki is one of the few people that fundy allows to touch his ears.

with tubbo and tommy, and eret even, fundy takes on more of a pest-like role. he enjoys causing trouble and chaos, going so far as to cause small inconveniences whenever possible, just to bother them. he swaps tommy and tubbo's tools, he replaces the occasional block of eret's house with another, he ties tommy's shoelaces together.. the list goes on.

with phil, he seems to behave himself for the most part. his respect for the older blond evidently wins out over his constant need to cause chaos and the two of them bond over simple tasks-- killing mobs, sharing food, smelting materials. wilbur isn't surprised. phil had taken on somewhat of a paternal role for all of them.

schlatt, however? something in wilbur pulls uncomfortably tight when he sees them plan pranks in muted whispers, hunched over a crafting bench. he knows they're only planning harmless tricks but he feels odd when he watches them. they whisper conspiratorially back and forth, movement clumsily suspicious as they try to keep the others from overhearing. it hurts, that his mind finds two of his best friends so suspicious when he knows they're both near harmless.

he spots fundy perched over the campfire one time, schlatt at his side. the half-fox doesn't turn to look at him as he reveals the flint and steel in his hands. wilbur finds himself frozen, the crackle pop of fire tearing across his mind even before they click the pieces together. he's almost suffocated suddenly by the scent, by the tang, of smoke in the back of his throat and his nose and his lungs and--

the fire roars high and wilbur stumbles back a few steps when it illuminates the two of them in the setting sun. schlatt is laughing and fundy turns around, a grin on his face..

"wilbur! come join us!" fundy shouts, waving him over with a hand. he's shaken out of his stupor in enough time to trot over and sit back heavily onto one of the carefully placed log seats.

"you okay?" schlatt asks, eyebrows furrowed.

he waves it off with a grin, "i'm fine. you just startled me when you lit the fire, is all."

that's the end of it, or at least-- it should be.

fundy is rushing ahead of him and tommy in the cave, launching himself haphazardly across a puddle of lava. "slow down, fundy!" wilbur shouts after him.

the half-fox turns, cups his hands around his mouth and spits back, "what are you, my dad?"

wilbur's blood freezes over and he stops in his tracks. tommy turns to look at him but everything starts to look a little fuzzy, then.

"wilbur?" he can't tell who's speaking. everything is muffled. he's wavering on his feet, swaying back and forth. someone grabs ahold of his arms to try and stabilize him. "wilbur?" he lifts his gaze enough to look into the terrified eyes of fundy, tommy hovering nervously behind him. "wilbur, i'm sorry. are you okay?" he opens his mouth to respond but he doesn't get the chance. his eyes shut without his permission and he falls, consciousness slipping.

when he wakes again, it's in his bed. phil is sat at his bedside and tubbo shuffles around near the chests. "you're awake." his eyes dart to phil. "you gave fundy and tommy quite the scare down there, mate. they came rushing back with you balanced between them-- we thought you'd died." he lowers his voice as tubbo shuffles closer, "it had to do with the reminders, didn't it?"

wilbur lets his head sink back into the pillows with a sharp exhale. that seems answer enough for the two of them, as phil sighs and tubbo fidgets. patting his knees, the older blond rises to his feet. "right, well.. we'll let you rest up. there's someone who's a little eager to see you at the moment, so we'll let him in." he leads tubbo toward the exit and wilbur panics.

he isn't sure he wants to see any of the others at the moment-- something white barrels through when phil opens the door, something white that leaps on top of him. his breath is knocked from him and he hears phil and tubbo laughing as they exit.

"hey pee dog," he greets as the dog settles on top of his stomach, sprawled out comfortably across him. the dog merely barks in response, drawing his tongue up wilbur's face. he coughs and wipes his face with his sleeve, but his smile only grows. "good boy!"

the dog's tail is wagging so fast that wilbur can't really track it. smoothing his hand down pee dog's back, he breathes out a sigh and sinks further into his mattress. he needs to tell them. he can't keep doing this, especially not if he passes out like he did on fundy and tommy. they need to know. so, wilbur resolves, once he's feeling better, he'll tell them. he'll gather everyone together, even those that don't live with them, and tell everyone all at once.

he's just glad he'll have support; support in the form of phil and tubbo, in eret and niki. and the others trust him. they're all friends. surely, with the help of the other four, they'll believe him-- even if it does sound outrageous. they'll have to believe him.

time creeps by after that. he recovers eventually, apologizes for scaring them all, and things go back to normal. or, wilbur wishes they did. as time passes, he finds himself laughing less. his smiles don't feel quite right, he can't seem to formulate jokes like he used to.. his chest feels devoid of something, but he doesn't know what. he tries to keep that side of things hidden from the others, but he can tell all of them are worried. it becomes impossible to act normally, not when he cracks a joke and it falls flat or he speaks and the others fall quiet.

he can hardly find the energy for most things, but he carries on with his daily tasks. the others say nothing if he begins exploring and mining less, tending to the farm more often than not. schlatt is actually the one to sit him down and try to talk with him. wilbur is both surprised but not at all surprised, all at the same time.

"what's going on with you?" the half-goat asks casually, sat beside him on his bed. wilbur flashes a smile but can tell instantly it doesn't have the effect he'd hoped.

"there's nothing wrong. i'm perfectly fine. just a little tired. i've been having these weird dreams.." it isn't exactly a lie. he is tired. and while they aren't dreams in particular, they are weird and they do keep him awake quite frequently. he's starting to experience things similar to how tubbo does, but unlike tubbo, he remembers afterward. he's able to see his friends in these reminders, see everything going on around them. there are still some faceless figures, unrecognizable voices, but for the most part, he knows all of them.

he's struggling to shake off a memory of being in the sky on a mismatched platform of blocks, a faceless figure rambling on about something called 'tax evasion' when schlatt shakes his shoulder, snapping him out of it. "did you hear a word i said?"

he's sheepish as he responds. he hadn't realized schlatt had been talking and he couldn't exactly escape the reminders like before-- "sorry, schlatt. i wasn't.. i got distracted."

the other sighs and wilbur frowns. "you know you can tell us anything, right? if something's wrong, you can tell us. we'll help you." the hand on his shoulder almost startles him as he's nearly thrown back into a reminder.

"i know, i know. but i'm fine. i promise. i just need some time. if.. if it gets any worse, i promise i'll tell you all. but i can't, not right now." wilbur mutters, staring down at his lap. schlatt's hand slides away and the half-goat sighs again,

"if you say so, wilbur. i'll leave you be-- and tell the others you're not feeling great. take a nap or something. you're exhausted."

"thanks. you're the best, schlatt." he says in response.

schlatt flashes a grin, borderline cocky, "i know." then he's leaving, shutting the door behind him.

from then on, the reminders only get worse. it reaches a point where he can't even do anything productive for long, lest he be thrown into a reminder and trample the farm or accidentally hurt someone. the others notice quickly. how he stutters over his words, freezes mid-sentence or mid-step, how sometimes he doesn't hear a word they say or seem to see them at all, even when they stand face-to-face.

he hardly even notices that he hasn't touched his guitar in weeks, or sang, or even hummed.

tubbo seeks him out when he's fighting against the crashing wave of reminders, grasps his arms when he wavers on his feet. sleep is hard to come by when he's plagued near constantly by thoughts that aren't quite his. he isn't sure how long it's been since he last slept.

"come on, wil. you need to go to sleep. niki already said she'd take over farming for you. we're all worried about you, man. it's like you aren't even here with us anymore." the younger brunet murmurs, tugging at his sleeves. wilbur blinks slowly and lets tubbo lead him over to his house. tommy meets him halfway, and the two settle him into bed-- the blond doesn't even have any quips. it feels off, to see tommy looking so sullen and serious.

it's when he's slumped into his sheets that tubbo sits at his feet. "you need to tell them, wilbur. and soon. or i will." it feels like it should be a threat but it doesn't quite land that way, not with tubbo saying it. wilbur tries to ignore the look tommy is giving the two of them but it's difficult. confusion, concern.. maybe a little hurt.

blinking blearily, wilbur pushes himself up. he shoves a reminder away forcefully, though it's difficult and it makes him feel sick. "you're right, tubbo, you're right. gather everyone. everyone-- even the ones that don't live inside the walls. i'll tell them all at once."

meeting tubbo's eyes, wilbur's chest aches with the sadness he sees there. he sighs, long and slow, and swings his legs off the side of the bed. the two youngest try to force him to lay back down, but he brushes them off and stumbles his way outside through the twisting turns of reminders and the sickness pushing them off causes. he can feel everyone's eyes following him as he stumbles over to the cauldron phil keeps outside his house.

his eyes meet his own and.. wilbur hadn't known how truly awful he looked. his eyes were sunken, layered with sickly purple looking bags. his entire face was shadowed, pale. as he stared into his own reflection, his grip tightened around the edges of the cauldron. he wouldn't let these reminders control him. he wouldn't let himself drift away because the higher deity was so unbelievably cruel. he couldn't do that to himself, and he couldn't do that to his friends-- to his family. he just couldn't.

"gather all the others," he told his friends, all gathered around him as he turned around, "i have something to tell you all. it's important." there was no protest, just smiles as he scrubbed his face with water and stood up straighter. they took off to find the others that lived in the world with them. wilbur would tell them-- he'd tell them all. he had to.

he wasn't able to help much in the few days it took to gather everyone. between staving off reminders and trying to sleep through fits of them, he was in no condition to travel. not to mention, the idea had quickly been vetoed by them all as they gathered around the fire together that night-- for the first time in weeks. wilbur strummed clumsily at his guitar, still exhausted and still being thrown about through reminders he couldn't manage to shove down. despite that, spirits seemed higher than they had been in awhile. he assumed it had something to do with the minor improvements he was showing. he supposed it probably didn't look great from an outside perspective.

when he wasn't sleeping or cleaning himself up or spending time with his friends, he was practicing what he would say. this needed to be perfect. what if they didn't believe him? what if they kicked him out? what if they killed him? he shoved his trembling hands into his pants pockets and hunched closer to the fire.

fundy trotted over and sat beside him. "you okay?" it was a little startling to see the genuine concern in his face, but wilbur nodded.

"genuinely. i'm okay. or, i will be." he answered.

the half-fox flashed a smile. "that's great. but.. shouldn't you be resting? phil is gonna be back soon and you promised him you'd be sleeping--"

"shit!" wilbur cursed, fumbling. he had said that and disappointing phil was.. it wasn't fun.

"no worries. just lean on me, we'll pretend you're asleep." fundy whispered. instantly, wilbur slumped against fundy's shoulder. just in time, it seemed, for phil and eret got back moments later.

"he's sleeping, fundy?" eret asked.

"yep. we were out here talking and then he just.. fell asleep." the half-fox responded, voice chipper as ever.

wilbur moved, made sure to yawn and blink his best sleepy eyes as he sat up. "what's.. going on?"

"nothing, wil. just checking in with fundy," phil reassured. "you ready for your big announcement?"

"as ready as i'll ever be, i guess," he responded, shifting away from fundy's shoulder, "why?"

"niki messaged ahead, mate. she and tubbo found george, sapnap, ant, and bad. they'll be back here by morning," the eldest blond informs. 

wilbur gave a forceful puff of breath as he stood. "guess i should try to get one last nap in before then. am i looking any prettier yet? we all know that's my best selling point."

eret grinned, "prettiest guy around, wilbur, don't you worry."

"yeah, is that new eyeliner? it's a nice shade of purple and all, you know, but-- and while i'm no fucking expert on beauty routines or any of that shit-- isn't that stuff supposed to go above your eyes?" tommy snarked from a few blocks away, placing down a few more log seats at the fire.

"that's eyeshadow, tommy. but thank you. i also think i happen to look positively stunning in this shade of purple." wilbur quipped right back. eret and fundy laughed, shuffling off to help out tommy, while phil walked wilbur back to his house.

the closer they got, however, the more sick wilbur began to feel. his chest ached and he felt like he couldn't quite breath right. his stomach rolled. he inhaled unevenly. "phil, i think something's going to happen soon," he piped up.

"yeah? well.. whatever does happen, we'll be right here with you, wil. don't worry so much." phil patted his shoulder as he left him at his door, returning to the others.

wilbur sighed, grasping tight at the fabric of his sweater over his stomach. "something's going to happen. i just wish i knew what. if only my abilities could see the future instead of the past." he shook his head and picked his way over to his bed, dropping down atop the sheets. "if only.."

he was woken rather alarmingly by a knock on the door. he shoved at reminders bubbling to the surface, more and more insistent with every passing hour, and stumbled to his feet. he took a moment on the way there to brush his hair messily out of his eyes with his fingers and smooth some wrinkles out of his sweater. swinging the door open, he was met with niki, standing right there. "are you ready? everyone is here, and they're all waiting."

he blinked blearily, then rubbed at his eyes. "yeah, just.. just give me a moment. i just woke up."

"oh!-- i'm sorry. if i had known you were sleeping, i would have left you alone." he smiled and waved off her concern,

"it's fine. the sooner i tell them, the easier it'll be not to chicken out." he let her reach up and tousle his hair while he fixed his clothes briefly. "come on."

she led the way over toward the fire, where everyone was sitting. when he approached, they all went quiet and looked at him. "so.. uh.." he rubbed the back of his neck, stood in front of all of them. even niki went to take a seat.

"take your time, wilbur," bad offered politely. "i'm sure if it's important enough to tell all of us, then it's hard to talk about."

"right." he cleared his throat. "well.. you all know we've had lives before these ones, right?" when he got a multitude of nods, he continued, "well.. well, i get these--"

a thunderous crash interrupted him, far louder than any previous noises. it.. it sounded almost like metal clashing, on top of the boom of a spawn. they all froze, looked around. then the bodies popped into existence. bodies. wilbur repeated the thought over and over again in his head. bodies. bodies. bodies bodies bodies--

he was thrown out of his stupor when the others sprung to help the newcomers. they both looked so, so familiar..

wilbur couldn't find it in himself to move, stood evenly spaced between both of them. he looked first to his left-- phil, tommy, tubbo.. they all crowded around the man cloaked in red, half-pig in nature. wilbur's stomach clenched. then he looked to his right. ant, sapnap, george, bad were all crowded around the green clad figure. he saw his fingers clench, as if tightening around something (the handle of a tool? his mind supplied), before black beady eyes-- the eyes on the figure's mask-- met his.

he thinks they both gasped simultaneously. ice water seemed to rush through his veins. he felt lightheaded, unable to tear his eyes away. something seemed to shift in his chest, almost like something finally fitting into place. it was when fundy and eret grabbed an arm each that he realized he'd been falling. the masked figure sits up finally, looks around at those gathered around him and at those gathered around the other newcomer, then.. is that a sob? wilbur is fading fast after that, head lolled backward by something out of his control. there's shouting, but that's fading too and--

the world blurs into view for wilbur. he blinks up at the darkened ceiling of his house, lit only by torches. then his head turns to the left, toward tubbo and tommy's beds. the two youngest are conked out, sleeping peacefully. carefully, wilbur swings his legs over the side of his bed and stands. then he's moving, heading for the door. without even noticing, his feet lead him to milo's large aquarium. a few other fish have joined him, ones niki and fundy had brought back. one tubbo had found. it's nice. colorful, he thinks, as he slides his boots off and settles on the edge.

he doesn't hear anyone come up behind him, doesn't notice them until they sit beside him. "you're wilbur." they say. he looks over-- the masked man.

"i am," he responds, "you are?"

"dream." the name is simple enough, but wilbur recognizes it.

"huh," he says instead.

"you recognize me, don't you? you recognize all of us." the words sound accusatory but his tone says he's tired.

"what if i do?" he asks, eyes shifting back to the water, where milo swims around his feet.

"i can help you remember, wilbur." the statement has him freezing. his head snaps back up, eyes meeting the blank stare of the mask.

"how?" he breaths. he wants nothing more than to remember, if only so the reminders stop. if only so that he can go back to how things were, joking around with the others and having fun.

"because i remember." dream sounds so, so tired. "and you can too. i know you can. you always do."

wilbur's breath catches in his throat. dream seems to take his silence as assent to continue, "i always remember. i know all of you. i always have. i always will. no matter how many worlds i jump, no matter how many people i meet or how many things i do."

wilbur's eyes are drawn to the other's twitching fingers as dream's voice grows tight with emotion, "i always remember them and they never remember me. we're alike, in that way, wilbur. you remember them, you always will. but they'll never remember you. it's so.. so shit! having to start over every time.."

"so tell me, dream. help me remember. please." he doesn't care that he sounds like he's pleading. he is. he needs to remember, more than anything.

dream looks up from his lap and meets his eyes. slowly, he lifts his mask away from his face and wilbur peers into green eyes. dream peers back, into his brown ones. and then the masked man spills everything. he tells him all about everything he remembers, about l'manburg and the dream smp and-- as he finishes, everything comes back in a rush. he feels like he's suffocating under the magnitude of it all.

"you know, this is the first time you've decided to tell them all. we've been in so many different worlds, you've told me about so many worlds.. but you always kept it between us. just us two and tubbo.." dream's expression is sad but fond.

wilbur forces out a choked noise and dream only smiles, tugging his mask back down. "we should both get ready for the day. you've still got an announcement to make, right?" he takes the hand the green-clad man offers him and stumbles when he finds his feet. the sun is rising as he heads back for his house. dream disappears into the trees. when he enters, he fumbles with the door.

"wilbur?" the soft, sleepy voice startles him. his hands are shaking so badly as he abandons the door and turns around. tubbo is sitting up slightly, rubbing at an eye. but he's staring at him, confused and a little worried.

it takes a moment to get his vocal chords to work again. but when they do, he breaths, "i remember, tubbo. i remember." the younger brunet's eyes fly wide but he slides back down into his bed.

"you can tell us all about it later," tubbo explains, "you look tired. i'll cover for you, don't worry. they all know you get really tired after a new spawn anyway."

wilbur flashes a smile and settles into bed. "thanks, tubbo."

"it's no problem," the boy whispers back. tommy gives an annoyed grumble in his sleep, so they both go quiet after that. wilbur wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway-- he's falling asleep faster than he thought he would've.

he wakes on his own this time. his eyes are slow to open, body dragging and limbs all too heavy. he works for a few minutes to turn himself away from the wall. when he finally manages it, tubbo and tommy's beds are empty-- he's thrown mercilessly from the waking world into a reminder, though it's completely clear to him. he can make out faces, words, locations.. when he's released, he struggles through a strangled sound. maybe he should go see dream about it-- he cries out as he's torn away once again. he doesn't hear the door open-- doesn't hear him enter-- but when wilbur opens his eyes again, dream is perched on one of the furnaces stacked near the foot of his bed.

"don't think too hard, wilbur," dream mutters, sliding down and stalking closer to his bed. "this always happens when you remember. the more you think, the worse they get."

"i have to tell the others though--" he tries desperately to fend off another reminder at the thought of the others but he finds he can't. dream looks ever patient when he comes to again, merely waiting for him to snap out of it.

"y'know," dream starts in a soft voice, "it's been awhile since i've seen you go through one of those. have the others ever told you what it looks like?"

"what?" wilbur falters.

"you get this.. this faraway look. your eyes go all empty and it's easy to tell you aren't really there. you get pale too," dream tells him. his mask is still pulled down over his eyes and nose, so wilbur can't read his expression, but he sounds genuine. "listen to me, wilbur. stay inside today. stay inside for as long as you have to. i'll keep tommy and tubbo away for now. you'll regret it if you do leave."

"i can't, dream. i need to tell them--" he's thrown through another reminder, far more disorienting than before.

"and you can tell them another day! they aren't going anywhere, wilbur!" dream sounds almost angry now, looming over his bedside. "they aren't going anywhere.. but you might."

he can't form words to respond, especially not when dream continues, ignoring his startled look, "there was this one time, right after you remembered. when you pushed through the reminders like you want to do now, you.. you just passed out. you were lucky techno was there to catch you. he and tommy came rushing back and-- wilbur, you were gone for several days. you got stuck in a reminder and.. we thought you had died. everyone was so heartbroken and we were planning a funeral and then you woke up, all of the sudden. you would have died, if you didn't wake up when you did. you were ice cold and almost gray when you came around again."

wilbur is gaping, mind spinning. "but i remember now. why don't i--"

"it takes awhile for your old memories to sync up right. you've had a lot of past lives. we all have." dream explains, cutting him off. "now just.. promise me you'll stay inside. don't think too much. sleep through it, if you can. you'll know when it's safe to come back out and be with everyone else." the masked man doesn't wait for an answer, doesn't even smile as he strides out and locks the door behind him.

wilbur sinks back into the sheets. he knows dream told him not to think-- he's thrown into yet another reminder (memory now, he supposes). sleep sounds good after all. he just feels awful having brought everyone together, only to blow them off and lock himself inside. and he hasn't even met techno again, yet. he decides to tune out his thoughts when techno's name sends him recoiling through memories of sky islands with phil and tommy and techno, of fighting and falling and laughing.

he'll still tell them. he has to break the cycle. dream said this was the first world in which he'd decided to be truthful. maybe it would change something. maybe they would remember too. he wonders if tubbo could also remember everything. he should have asked dream. wilbur closes his eyes and fights through memories of bees and rvs and boxes.. maybe he will just sleep after all. he can't take all these damn memories anyways.

it takes days for him to feel stable enough to even attempt facing the others. he'd been skimming through memories near constantly, pulled out long enough here and there to eat. sleep becomes almost impossible by the night of the second day. its been at least five days, wilbur thinks, as he stands on shaky legs. it takes a moment or two for him to find balance, but then he's shuffling for the door. he fumbles with the lock, hands trembling.

he hadn't realized how nervous the thought of finally facing the others was until he stood at the door, struggling to get his fingers to cooperate enough to unlock his door. he gets it eventually and pushes the door open, stepping out into the sun. he utters a soft breath, nothing more than a shuddering exhale. it takes a moment, but he's noticed rather quickly.

tubbo is darting over, throwing his arms around wilbur. it feels like he's attempting to support his weight (probably a smart idea, if he thinks about it) but also like he's trying to hug him-- like he can't decide which he wants to do more. "wilbur! you're okay!" he grins and wilbur smiles as the others quickly gather.

it's tommy who takes up his other side, surprisingly, though he mutters something halfhearted about 'fucking owing him' under his breath. "you okay, wil? dream shut you in there the one morning, wouldn't tell us a thing other than that you didn't feel well. tubbo and tommy had to room with eret for a few days," phil is saying.

wilbur meets the eyes of dream's mask over the shoulders of punz and purpled but neither says anything. "i'm fine, you guys. i appreciate the concern but.. i'm okay. i promise. better than i've ever been in this world, in fact."

surprisingly, it's not phil or niki or eret that speaks up-- it's fundy. "in this world?" the half-fox inquires, eyes narrowed.

"i--" wilbur's mouth moves, but he struggles to find the words. "i swear, i'll explain everything. i'd like to meet our other newcomer first, though. technoblade, right?" it's only courtesy, of course. he knows the man's name is techno, but he hasn't explained anything yet.

"that's me," the half-pig responds easily, voice a careful monotone.

"nice to meet you. sorry about all the chaos. normally i'm around to greet newcomers a lot sooner," he says.

techno shrugs, "you seemed.. occupied." his eyes flit up and down his form briefly, then drift back to his face.

"i was, trust me." wilbur mutters. "now, uh-- that announcement. i'd like to sit down for it, if that's okay, but i think i owe you all. especially after all that." tommy and tubbo help over to the smothered fire, settling him on one of the logs.

"i guess i should start from the beginning, right?" he laughs a little. his eyes follow the curve of the crowd and he inhales, resting his hands on his knees. "you all know how we've all had past lives. i mentioned it last time." he gets a few nods, so he continues, "and.. you know how normally, you don't remember them."

he can see the curiosity on their faces, the concern, the thoughtfulness, the everything. "well, i.. i remember. i remember all of mine."

he can feel the outburst waiting to happen. it's obvious in the way they tense, and in the way their mouths open and close. but none of them seem keen on speaking. "i didn't, not at first. it was only after dr--" he pauses. he didn't ask dream if he was comfortable sharing his secret or not. he scans the crowd again: purpled, tubbo, tommy. fundy and eret. phil, schlatt, techno, punz. niki. skeppy and bad, ant, george, sapnap.. he startles when a hand drops onto his shoulder, turning to look. dream is stood behind him.

"i remember too. always have-- that's where me and wilbur are different." dream says, voice firm. "i helped him remember, actually."

wilbur gapes. he hadn't expected the rather cryptic man to say anything. he had kept it to himself in every other world, true to his word, keeping it between wilbur and himself-- and sometimes tubbo.

when dream's mask tips in his direction, the brunet spots the blond's small, crooked smirk. dream nods at him, so wilbur picks up where he left off. "i remember all of you, too. we've shared worlds. all of us have."

they seem to find their thoughts all at once, as there's chatter. it's calming down, moments later, when tubbo steps forward hesitantly. "i.. um.. i think i remember too. a little bit. when i tell the stories.." he gestures vaguely with his hands but everyone seems to understand. wilbur reaches up to ruffle his hair fondly.

"i guess i should tell you all that some of you knew that i remembered. or, that i was trying to, at least. phil, eret, and niki all knew. tubbo did too, obviously." wilbur flashes a smile when all of them tune right back into what he's saying. "i'm.. really sorry about disappearing like i did. the reminders got really bad, after i remembered. my memories were all lining up, so it messed with me. messed with my head." he isn't sure what to say after that. he doesn't have much else to say.

punz rubs his hands together, looking down at his feet briefly. "i believe you. but.. what now? what happens from here?"

wilbur pauses. he hadn't really thought about it. what was next? he thinks that his cluelessness is evident in his expression, as they all start to talk amongst themselves. then, dream speaks up again,

"i might have an idea. but.. i'm not sure." he shakes his head and crosses his arms.

"what's the idea?" sapnap inquires.

"have you all been to the nether yet?" the masked man asked. wilbur gasps at the same time that tommy mutters 'what the hell is the nether?' rather loudly to tubbo. the youngest brunet only shrugs.

"'afraid not, mate. none of us here, anyway," phil says instead.

"do you remember how to make the portal, wilbur?" dream questions

he sifts through memories quickly before he responds, "yeah, of course. i'm not as good at it as you are, never was. but i can manage."

"i think that should be our next step. we can get a ton of good stuff there, stuff that'll help with.. with my idea. i want to think on it a little more before i tell anyone about it, but it can't hurt to have the stuff even if we don't go with my idea." the green-clad man is saying as he strides over toward ant, george, sapnap, and bad. he seems to fit in with them naturally and, even if they don't remember him, wilbur knows they were-- are-- dream's best friends.

that's still weird to think about. he knows things, now, rather than just thinking he knows.

he rises on legs, strengthened with confidence, and strides over toward his friends. the crowd is dispersing, breaking into smaller crowds. fundy and eret are grinning at him while he approaches and niki goes so far as to throw her arms around him in a hug. he laughs along with them all.

"i'm glad you finally told them all, wil," phil tells him in passing as he leads punz, tommy, tubbo, and purpled back toward his house.

schlatt throws an arm around his shoulders when niki draws away. "so you knew all of us, eh?" the half-goat says. "what was our last world like?"

wilbur falters and goes quiet, eyes darting around the group. "well, it.. uh.. it was.. war torn."

their smiles fall all at once and he tugs at the hem of his sweater. "it wasn't all bad, of course. but there was a lot of war. maybe i'll talk about it later but not right now." he pauses, "i actually.. i wanted to take a nap. i'm exhausted. the memories were ruthless and it's been days since i've slept." they only nod, smiles returning gradually, so he heads off toward his house.

when he wakes later that night, tommy and tubbo are asleep in their beds. he rises to his feet, slides his shoes on, and treks outside. he almost doesn't spot him, but he sees dream perched in the branches of one of the trees ant, sapnap, george, and bad are all asleep under. wilbur lifts a hand in greeting and the masked man dips his head, waving back. he assumes that skeppy and punz went back to their bases, as they live close enough to make it back in less than a day's travel. he isn't sure where they'd stay otherwise. purpled might have left, though it's more likely that he's staying with phil for another night.

there's no one else in sight, except-- there's the person he was looking for. techno is working away in the farm, just where wilbur thought he'd find him. he vaults the fence, plonking himself down on one of the posts. "techno. i thought i'd find you out here."

the half-pig turns toward him, arms bundled with potatoes, and drawls, "is that right?"

"it is, actually." wilbur taps his head with a small smile. "you always had a habit of working on the potato farm when you were stressed or couldn't sleep."

"oh yeah," techno mutters, finally looking up to meet his eyes properly. "so.. what did you want?"

"to tell you to get some sleep. you did this all too often in our past worlds. it seems you have a habit of working yourself to death, just about." he says in response. techno looks skeptical but only nods slightly.

it's silent for a long while, as techno continues to work on the farm and wilbur watches. it startles him a little when techno speaks, "you were the first one to spawn in the world, right?"

"that was me. it was just me for awhile, probably a month or two. then schlatt showed up." he decides honesty is the way to go. it's the easiest way to gain techno's trust. he knows as much.

techno continues, "did you ever have any plans? for what you'd do, once you built a house and everything." 

wilbur isn't sure what he's getting at, but he answers regardless, "well.. not really. i was just living life, really. living day to day, making plans for that day rather than the future."

the silence draws on for a borderline uncomfortable moment, before the half-pig speaks again, "do you have any plans for after this? now that everyone knows about your funky powers."

wilbur hesitates. "i'm not sure. even now, i still live day to day. maybe phil or eret would have a better plan for the future-- maybe even tommy. schlatt might have plans, but he'll never say what they are. me, though? i just don't know."

wilbur is prepared for another tough question when techno opens his mouth next, but instead he asks, "what's the nether like? that's where dream said we should go next."

"it's red. very red. and hot. there's a lot of lava, and these monster pig things." wilbur stares at techno for a moment, then adds, "some of them look a little like you, but they're definitely more pig-like."

techno nods once, twice, then tosses the hoe he was sporting in wilbur's direction. "you should make more definitive plans. you can't just rely on others to make decisions for you."

the brunet laughs, "i've had my fair share of making decisions and being the leader." he only flashes a smile when techno looks back in his direction. "and hey, it's worked so far, hasn't it?"

techno stops walking and turns again. "i guess it has," he concedes through a muted smirk. then he twists, sidling off.

wilbur only laughs again.

**Author's Note:**

> the total word count is somewhere around 15k.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed!! :)


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